


I'm Just a Singer (in a rock and roll band)

by karrenia_rune



Category: Bull Durham (1988)
Genre: F/M, Fic or Treat Meme, Interviews, POV Female Character, Yuletide 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 14:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who is Annie Savoy, in her own words and in her particular fashion, on her own terms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Just a Singer (in a rock and roll band)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starfishchick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfishchick/gifts).



Disclaimer: Bull Durham belongs its creators and producers as do the characters who appear or are mentioned. It is not mine.

 

"I am just a singer (in a rock and roll band"

I suppose it would become one of those inevitable things, like the tide or something equally akin to a force of nature; although to be fair a girl does so enjoy cultivating a sense of mystery of self, but since you’ve asked, I might just as well tell you. 

Seeing as how you’ve come all this way to see little ole’ me. The name’s Annie Savoy, a southern gal born and bred among, with the accent still very much prevalent. My parents raised to me to not only cultivate but almost to covet the finer things in life, from a glass of wine, to the subtly shaded pastel landscapes of the French Impressionists. I don’t rightly know to this day if it was their influence or my own taste that gave me a preference for Renoir over Monet or Manet; mainly because I could never quite distinguish between the pair of them. 

I was a dutiful daughter for the most part, and I suppose you were looking for something much more risqué, being a newspaper reporter and all that. You cover the travelling minor league baseball leagues, well, I dare say, you listen, and listen well, because I hardly ever speak at length to reporters, I shall certainly never repeat myself for them. 

I could walk and talk like a lady before my tenth birthday. And when it came to reading books and reciting poetry, I did not just read it, it was more like devouring them; the music of poets like Walt Whitman, and Y. B Yeats and Emily Dickinson ran through my head the way blood runs through your veins. 

But, you say, when did that love translate into a love of baseball? You might very well be right in supposing that two would be antiethical to each other, like matter and antimatter. II discovered that whenever I played softball; and I might share with you a side anecdote, that who’s to say that baseball should strictly be the province of the boys? But I digress, I discovered with each pitch I threw across home plate, regardless of whether it was decreed a strike or a ball, the baseball also possessed its own kind of rhythms, its rituals; a kind of study all its own.

It would take much longer when I had grown out of girlhood, gone onto college and discovered other studies, other loves, that I discovered that I could mix the two loves, one of words and one of baseball.

In my freshman year I made the junior varsity, but not as a pitcher, but as a shortstop, and let me tell you, the pressure they put on you is incredible what with maintaining a certain grade point average in order to continue to compete, but I say this with more than a little modicum of pride. Is it bragging, or its merely a fact after all this time that not only did maintain my eligibility to play, but that I had almost a 4.0 grade average for all for years that I attended college.

That in itself was an accomplishment because I was the first in my family to get a higher education: not to say that my folks were dullards, not by any measure, but it was a monetary one and not any disinclination that prevented them from doing so.

The weird thing was that in that day in age girls who went to college were expected to go into one of either of two professional fields, education or nursing. I had the chops for the former, but not the latter. I am, mean, really, while nursing is a noble profession, I simply was not cut out for it. And for another, I valued my freedom.’

Of course there were the inevitable arguments and lectures and my father laying down the law and saying in a stern voice, “As long as you live in my house, you live under my rules.”

My reaction of course to all this, was “Then I shall have to make my own rules.”

Don’t get me wrong I loved my parents, still do, even though they have by now passed on, and I did back then, but I was determined to make my own way in the world, despite them.

So, I packed up my things, went home and informed my folks that I was about to embark on a journey to find myself, which I did in sense with my roommate. We bought a second-hand car and went on a road-trip, mostly through up the East Coast, and I must say that Donna was a doll, a right doll, for putting up with lil’ ole me and my eccentricities even then.

What happened to Donna? Well, I don’t rightly know if I can answer that because we lost touch with each other and as such things happen. When I last heard of hear she was doing well, married and with three kids.

I wished her well, sent her a few postcards from my travels and sooner or later, much to my own astonishment became caught up in baseball fever.

Why do I content myself with minor-leaguers when I could be basking in the glory of the majors? I don’t rightly know myself. Perhaps, it’s the freshness, the newness, like a brand new glove, but it’s that wide-eyed innocence that attracts me something fierce. I like to say that I knew them all, back in the day.

You are probably here because I my notable success, Crash Davis, and you’d be right.

In him I found someone who wasn’t just a dumb jock, as the type is both an academic and in a professional setting are so often described. Instead he was someone who was looking for something more. Oh, don’t get me wrong, there was as much joy in the physical side of things and is in the intellectual side. He was an empty vessel waiting to be filled, but he had presence, and he had the nerve to challenge me on my own level. Perhaps, if things had turned out differently we might have had something more. However, I think we were both too stubborn for our own good to have the courage to make a go of it.

Annie Savoy, in her own words and you can take that to the bank.

And that’s all the time I have to devote to this interview, Mr. Evrett. So, good to day to you, and I believe you can find your way out, no?”


End file.
